


A bad day

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens 1992 movie script
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with no happy ending, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Whump, kink meme prompt, the movie script from hell will haunt us all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Earth was nice, all in all. Although it could get a little depressing, sometimes, what with all the killing and robbing.“Told you so,” Crowley would say, had he been there. But Aziraphale refused to yield. Earth was nice, all in all, and weren’t human just as capable of selfless acts of kindness as they were of cruelty beyond reason?It just happened to be a bad day, is all. He spat on the ground, unsurprised to find his saliva stained pink, and slowly rose on his feet, swaying.Just a bad day.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	A bad day

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you not in the known: Some days ago a script for a Good Omens movie that thankfully was never made raised from between the dust of the old dear fandom of Good Omens the book.
> 
> This script is a version of the characters that I personally consider coming from a sort of Bizzarro World. They have some elements of the OG Aziraphale and Crowley, but it's barely a a pale imitation piled under a whole lot of "wait what"
> 
> And it's exactly the only version of these characters I could possibly imagine writing something like this for.
> 
> I love Aziraphale and Crowley and how much they love each other in all other iterations of them. This fic is not about that. This fic is about what a _'Holy shit this reads like an abusive relationship???'_ vibe reading the script gave me. That, paired with [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1884761) on the Good Omens kink meme, produced the result below.
> 
> Please for the love of all that is nice and good in the world: The tags are there for a reason, this work contains potentially very upsetting content. Thread very, very carefully. I beg you.
> 
> If you are strapped in for the ride and all you want is to suffer, well. This might do it for you.

Earth was nice, all in all. Although it could get a little depressing, sometimes, what with all the killing and robbing.

“Told you so,” Crowley would say, had he been there. But Aziraphale refused to yield. Earth was nice, all in all, and weren’t human just as capable of selfless acts of kindness as they were of cruelty beyond reason?

It just happened to be a bad day, is all. He spat on the ground, unsurprised to find his saliva stained pink, and slowly rose on his feet, swaying.

Just a bad day.

**

“What happened to your head?”

“A bad day.”

Aziraphale wasn’t exactly surprised to see the arc of an eyebrow being tilted over a pair of dark glasses, when Crowley slid in the seating on the other side of the rough wooden table. He wasn’t surprised, and he pointedly ignored it, sipping whichever concoction passed for a good drink around those dusty areas.

“A bad day or a bad week?” Crowley asked, helping himself to the bottle, lips curling around a toothy little grin. Aziraphale merely stared at him.

“Why do you insist on wearing… Those?” he said, in lieu of dignifying Crowley’s question with an actual answer. “They attract more attention to you than your eyes would do, in my opinion.”

“Who knows. Maybe I _want_ the attention,” Crowley peered at him over the rim of the darkened glasses, eyes a pungent yellow. The little grin hadn’t left his face. “Maybe less of a bad week, and more of a bad month.”

“Crowley, honestly,” Aziraphale replied, exasperated. He knew how he looked, he saw no point in discussing it further.

“You know, angel, I think I know a trick or two to make your month less bad.”

“You?” Aziraphale replied with a small scoff. “Forgive me if I find the idea… Questionable.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that. Questioning is all good and dandy in my book,” Crowley’s grin widened, at the pointed glare he received. “C’mon. I don’t think you quite want to just sit there and drink the pigswill they pass for a drink here the entire night.”

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale couldn’t deny that. He launched a questioning little look at his still half filled goblet, and sighed.

“…Alright.”

**

When he was pressed against the wall, he wasn’t surprised.

There was a certain something they’ve been dancing around since the Flood. Little jabs Aziraphale usually took quietly, or played the fool to, or simply ignored. You don’t get to spend your entire life on Earth since day one of the whole ‘humans being cast out of Eden’ situation and not learn how to read the room.

The problem was that he couldn’t quite figure out _why_.

Aziraphale had purposefully chosen a corporation that wouldn’t stand out. Not too tall, not too thin, not too handsome. As plain as it could get. The most remarkable feature he possessed might’ve been his hair. Soft looking, vaguely curly and as white as snow. Mortals seemed to link ageing to wiseness, and tended to trust an older man more easily, which helped on the job for the most part.

So he really, really couldn’t figure out why Crowley would, of all things, wish to go for that sort of activity.

“Is this what you meant with knowing a trick or two?”

“Oh, no, the trick is what I can do with my tongue,” Crowley replied cheekily, breath damp against Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale sighed.

“I thought we were friends—“ he ignored Crowley little scoff, trudging on. “I don’t think this is the sort of activity friends get up to.”

“They sure can. Friends with benefits, it’s a whole thing. Well, it will be. I have plans about it, just have to find the right moment to deploy ‘em.”

“Crowley—“

“Angel. Seriously, it’s all in good fun. Try to get looser every now and then. Mortals will like you more, if you chill.”

Aziraphale closed his mouth. ‘Friends don’t do this sort of thing’, he wanted to say, but…

What did he know about having friends, really? Before he was placed on his spot by the eastern gate, before he was sent down on Earth permanently, he lived a mostly anonymous life. Just another angel between many, coming to and fro, never quite stopping to have a chat or complain about upper management, or anything— And now no one ever replied to the postcards he sent to Heaven, in the hope they might attract others of his kind to come down, every now and then. They barely acknowledged the official reports he sent up. He never really managed to get close to a mortal, with all their dying in a handful of decades and being too busy to pay attention to a silly, pale stranger roaming their streets—

And, admittedly, the warm palm stroking his thigh felt… Nice. Vaguely tingly.

Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe friends did engage in those… Sort of activities.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and went slightly limper. Crowley hummed approvingly.

“Now we talkin’. Over here, I have a bed that will be much better than the wall, and I don’t want to be keeping you upright the whole night.” Aziraphale went, as he was tugged deeper inside, feeling light headed. He wasn’t quite sure if it was due to the jagged wound running down from his temple, that had been occasionally pulsing with pain for the past few days, or just… Everything else.

The room was mostly barren, except for the promised bed in a corner and a window darkened with heavy drapes. Aziraphale sat, at a loss.

“I’m not quite sure how this works,” he admitted, softly. Crowley rolled his eyes almost theatrically.

“Do I really have to teach you _all_ the fun stuff?” he then asked, in a tone which Aziraphale first interpreted as fondly exasperated, but promptly questioned said interpretation. “Alright, just… Lay back.”

It was slightly awkward, lying down as Crowley towered over him, tall and dark and with a flash of wolfish grin on his face. Then he leaned in, putting both hands on Aziraphale’s thighs, starting to drag up the sand coloured robes.

“Step one, less layers,” he said, grinning when Aziraphale shivered slightly at the skin to skin touch. “Step two… Oh, really. I don’t need to be telling you _this_.”

“I’ve never—” Aziraphale started to say, embarrassed, but stopped, feeling irritated at himself. He hated it when Crowley made him feel like a child. “I’ve never needed one, before.”

“Well, the fun doesn’t really start without one,” Crowley replied with a shrug, rising to his full height in order to shed his own robes. He even put the glasses away, but Aziraphale barely had the time to appreciate the rare sight of Crowley’s bright yellow eyes, before he found himself in front of the intimidating sight of his effort.

It was… Well, Aziraphale had no real means of comparison, but he was pretty sure Crowley’s effort was bigger than the average human’s male genitalia tended to be. It stood up proudly from a small bush of dark, curly hair, fully erected and flushed, making Crowley’s already slender figure look possibly even leaner.

Aziraphale gulped around nothing.

“Mmmh, better start with easy mode,” Crowley commented, apparently unperturbed as he knelt between Aziraphale’s legs, and spread his thighs, giving a pensive look to his completely smooth groin. Feeling more naked that he ought to feel when still half covered in clothing, Aziraphale shed his own robe awkwardly, letting it drop in a heap by the side of the bed. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Easy mode?” he then asked, tilting an eyebrow. He wished Crowley would move his hands more, as his hot fingers felt really nice on his thighs, but Crowley was still giving him an appraising look.

“Yes. Dicks can be quite tricky, with their tendency to drop down if you lose focus— You better start with a pussy, for now.”

“Oh, I… Um,” Aziraphale muttered, frowning slightly. He then took a deep breath, focusing, eyes closed. He knew he succeeded when a strange, tingly feeling rose along his lower belly, and Crowley hummed approvingly.

“Not too bad, for a first timer,” he then commented, as Aziraphale opened his eyes. He couldn’t quite see how his brand new effort looked like, but he saw Crowley move one of his hands away, closer to his groin, and then a feeling of _intrusion_ shook him, making Aziraphale’s back go rigid.

“ ’S alright, relax,” Crowley said, almost distractedly, wiggling one of his fingers in. “Not too bad at all. Nice and tight. You’re going to feel good, angel.”

“Huh… Thanks?” Aziraphale replied, dubious. He managed not to tense up again when a second finger was pushed in, allowing Crowley to spread his legs even more with his one free hand. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant feeling, but it was… Strange. Alien.

“So, am I… Supposed to be doing something?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask after long seconds, as Crowley kept lazily fingering him. Crowley hummed.

“All you have to do…” he then started to say, shifting on his knees to lean forward and taking his fingers out, spitting in his palm. “…Is let me do the work, and relax. You’ll get it soon.”

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to get, but took a deep breath nonetheless, willing his corporation to stay loose and relaxed as Crowley rubbed his palm along his own erection, slicking it with spit.

The first feeling as Crowley started to push in was of an even bigger, more forceful intrusion. Aziraphale let out a little, itching breath, did not allow his body to tense up, and did not move as Crowley shifted forward even more, fully sinking in with a breathless moan, pushing down on Aziraphale with his entire weight.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Crowley muttered, elbows framing Aziraphale’s sides. The flat plane of his belly was pushing on Aziraphale’s, their chest flush. He pushed a bit more, moaning even louder. “ ‘Knew you were going to feel good, but _fuck_ , angel.”

Aziraphale blinked, finally relaxing of his own volition. Crowley’s erection was fully in him, now, still feeling too big, but not painfully. His body was so close, close enough that Aziraphale could even feel him breathing through his own skin, could feel the shift of Crowley’s lean muscles as he swayed his hips just so, pulling slightly out and then sinking back in with a little groan.

He was closer than he’d ever been since they’ve known each other.

And oh, he was so, so warm. Aziraphale allowed the little noises trying to climb out of his throat to escape, allowed them to fill the room along with Crowley’s breathing and the wet noises as he claimed Aziraphale’s body with a slow pace that was rapidly gaining in speed. He closed his eyes, allowing the strange mix of pleasure, discomfort and warmth to rise from his lower belly, allowing his arms to sneak behind Crowley’s shoulders, to taste for the first time the feeling of Crowley’s skin under his palm.

He allowed himself to pull in, pull closer, and breath a little, indefinite noise when Crowley went without a complaint.

He was so close. He was so warm. He felt so solid and present and _real_ in Aziraphale’s arms.

“Crowley—“ Aziraphale sobbed, eyes closed, arms unmoving. Crowley was hammering in him with intent, now, groaning against his jaw, pushing his legs even more open.

“That’s right,” he replied, breathless. “Let it out, angel. Don’t hold back.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated, mind fogged and full of nothing but the feeling of _him_. “Crowley, Crowley, Crowley—“

He was so solid. He was so warm. He was so _real_.

**

In retrospect, Aziraphale would’ve realized what a slippery slope that first time shared in a tiny, dusty shack in a tiny, dusty village would be. But, for the most part, he just suffocated the thought. It happened, Heaven didn’t descend on him for daring to bed a demon, so why worry about it?

And it was… Nice. Aziraphale couldn’t quite pin-point the specific reason, he just knew that he liked those moments. He liked when Crowley would stroke his hair as he knelt in front of him to suck him off. He liked the way Crowley’s arms circled him firmly when he claimed Aziraphale from behind. He liked when their bodies would be pressed together, the way Crowley allowed him to squeeze him closer in the heat of the moment.

Centuries went as this ‘friends with benefits’ affair, as Crowley called it, led to a different type of affair to develop. And it made sense helping each other on the job, didn’t it? No reason for the both of them to be running around doing this or that bidding for their respective side, when they could use that time to share a drink and a game and, sometimes, getting into bed together.

It wasn’t always easy, of course. There had been times when… Well, Aziraphale wouldn’t quite say there had been times Crowley forced him, not really. Aziraphale wanted it, too, after all. He just needed a little push to get in the mood, right? And even if at times Crowley’s mood turned sour in front of Aziraphale’s first attempt at the declining, if he was a bit too rough after, well… Aziraphale really couldn’t blame him.

He could’ve just… Not put up a resistance in the first place. After all, he knew that was just how Crowley was. He was a _demon_ , it was his _nature_. You can’t put a fish on land and ask it to start running.

And Crowley was awfully decent for a demon, really. He stuck around and shared drinks and even did not rub it in Aziraphale’s face when he’d win at checkers. He’d start to moan about not liking Earth when he was too drunk, and even if they’d bicker about it, Aziraphale knew deep down that Crowley didn’t mind being on Earth half as much as he declared. Aziraphale knew there was no other place with all the drinks and entertainment and humans to annoy Crowley could possibly wish to be.

And, when Aziraphale was smart enough to just go with the flow, Crowley would even allow him to stay close for a few minutes even after he’d came, allowed him to keep him so close, to listen to the sound of his breathing and the beating of his heart, and those moments were worth all of it, in Aziraphale’s opinion.

After all, no one could possibly take Crowley’s place into Aziraphale’s life. Crowley was the one, the only, who would always be there. Sometimes grumpily, sometimes exasperated, sometimes lashing out with a cutting tongue, but he’d be there, nonetheless.

He’d be there, real, and firm, and warm in Aziraphale’s arms. And in those brief moments, Aziraphale could just… Close his eyes, quiet his thoughts, and pretend even if only for a fleeting second that everything would be just fine.

**

“Well this place is certainly… Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Crowley laughed, shaking his head. “Look at it, isn’t it perfect?”

Aziraphale kept his mouth very closed. He certainly had something to say about how this new pet project of Crowley’s was turning out to be, but, well… It just wasn’t in Aziraphale’s tastes, but that didn’t mean it also wasn’t in Crowley’s. Because it definitely was.

“It’s certainly very… You,” Aziraphale conceded, gaining an approving hum. “So, what it is exactly you’ll be going to do with this?”

Crowley launched him an exasperated, pitying look. “It’s a nightclub, angel. This is the place where people come to get wasted and grope each other on the dance floor and just… Get down to all the decadent sin you could possibly imagine. I’m expecting a commendation for this one, honestly.”

“Oh, I see,” Aziraphale replied, pushing his discomfort on a side. It was Crowley’s job, after all, something Aziraphale had hardly a say in. “I’d imagine it’s going to be very effective.”

“Yes. It might catch me that promotion once and for all, if all goes according to plan…” Crowley distractedly said, looking around. Aziraphale pushed his discomfort on a side again. Crowley had already went at lengths about this promotion he was aiming to, which would gain him a spot on Alpha Centauri.

Aziraphale privately hoped he’d never get that promotion. Crowley was being silly, what there could possibly be on Alpha Centauri that would be better than Earth?

“And I have yet to show you the best part!” Crowley declared, shaking him out of his thoughts. Aziraphale blinked, tilting his head on a side slightly. “Seriously, it’s going to be great. Over here.”

He followed dutifully through the dingy corridor accessible from the shadowiest corner of the room, all the way down to a black door, which Crowley opened with a flourish. Once inside, Aziraphale blinked.

“It’s… A bedroom?” he then said, unsure of why Crowley was grinning that way.

It _was_ a bedroom. With a soot gray carpet and dark wallpaper on the walls and not a window in sight. There was a single mahogany nightstand with some bottles by the side of the king sized bed, which was covered in a dark gray duvet.

“Exactly. Just imagine it… You are a bored husband tired from work, seeking solace into a bottle, and you meet a pretty young thing. Your wife is at home, ready to nag at you for this and that, and you _know_ that while this beauty just sits at your side, laughing at your jokes and looking at you with _those_ eyes…” Crowley narrated, gesturing around. “You follow her when she proposes to go in the back, and there it is. The perfect room. A bed, no window, all the privacy in the world. And you forget about your nagging wife, and there it is You’ve cheated, you’re a sinner, back to the drawing board with you. Isn’t it _perfect_?”

Aziraphale looked around, shifting his weight from a foot on the other. “Ah, yes, I’d imagine so. Very cunning.”

“And…” Aziraphale turned, jumping slightly when finding Crowley was right in front of him. A splayed hand was put on his chest. “It needs a proper opening night. Hasn’t be used once, yet.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale exhaled, walking backwards as Crowley pushed. The back of his legs hit the bed, forcing him to sit. “Well, I—“

“C’mon. I don’t think you have anything better to do tonight, angel.”

Aziraphale closed his mouth. He just… Just hadn’t prepared for this at all. He always preferred to see it coming, rather to have it sprung on him like that—

But Crowley was pushing again, and Aziraphale went, belly up on the bed. He breathed in slowly as Crowley tugged his black tie free, launching it carelessly on a side, opened the first three buttons of his shirt—

And it was no wonder Crowley was so successful on the job. He always looked so handsome with his sleek profile and slender figure, always wore the right thing, always kept his dark hair tousled in that perfect devil-may-care way. And he’d even take off the glasses just for Aziraphale, pinning him down with his prickling yellow gaze.

Aziraphale was prized with an approving hum, when he started to slide Crowley’s suit jacket off of his shoulders, palms sliding along the silk of his dark gray shirt.

A familiar dance followed, clothes were abandoned in heaps on the floor. Aziraphale had kept the effort from their last time, and Crowley seemed to approve as he climbed onto the bed, getting on top of Aziraphale and pushing his erection down against Aziraphale’s one.

“So obedient, tonight,” Crowley commented, low and sultry, breath caressing Aziraphale’s forehead as Crowley’s nose was pressed in his hair. “What should I give you, angel?”

Crowley felt so nice, his weight keeping Aziraphale grounded, the warmth of his skin, the way his palms slid lazily along Aziraphale’s sides… He made a little surprised noise when Aziraphale turned them on a side, cupping Crowley’s jaw. His hands were still on Aziraphale when Aziraphale worked around a knot of nervousness in his throat, and took the plunge, leaning in, lips a breath away from Crowley’s—

And then a rough hand was grabbing his, pinning it on a side as Aziraphale was turned belly down on the bed.

“You know what really boggles the mind about you, angel?” Crowley said, tone flat. Aziraphale shuddered, trying to look behind himself with little success. Crowley’s other hand pushed on his neck from behind. “What really boggles the mind… Is that you _never learn_.”

“ ‘m sorry—“ Aziraphale replied, or tried to. It came out as an almost inaudible whisper. Crowley scoffed.

“How does that saying go? It’s better to say sorry than to ask for permission?” he laughed, cold. He let Aziraphale’s hand go, but kept him pinned down by the neck, forcing his legs open. Aziraphale tried to take in a wheezing breath. “I’ve told you so many bloody times. I don’t care about smooching you up, alright? You’d think even someone as dense as you would get it, at some point—“ Aziraphale let out a choked noise when fingers were forced into him almost entirely dry, sending a jolt of pain up his spine. “But you. Never. Learn.”

Each word was punctuated with a thrust of fingers. Aziraphale wheezed again.

“ _Sorry_ —“

“Seriously, shut up, alright? Empty apologies is all you can spout,” Crowley sighed, clearly exasperated. “Shut up and let me work. As usual this is all you’re good for. Being a little whore that makes me do all the work. Aren’t you, angel?”

Aziraphale groaned, closing his eyes.

Crowley was right… He never learned, didn’t he? At least he was smart enough to know when a battle was lost.

He nodded.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Crowley said, sounding slightly more satisfied. “You’re just a cheap whore, at the end of the day. I’m surprised Heaven hasn’t given you the boot yet…” he trailed off, and then hummed. “That is, unless they are changing their minds as we speak. Maybe we should check?”

“Crowley—“ Aziraphale tried to protest, voice coming out far more high-pitched and plaintive than he wished. His backside hurt, as it usually did when Crowley got a little too eager to speed things up.

“Wings out.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale tried again, and let out a choked noise when he was pinned down even more. He could barely breathe, Crowley’s fingers around his neck burning painfully.

“Wings. Out.”

With a tiny, broken sob, Aziraphale complied. He sunk even more into the mattress under the weight of the newly manifested wings, seeing a white feather flutter on the duvet out the corner of his eyes.

“Well, saved this time as well,” Crowley commented, plucking a feather out. It pricked painfully. “Lucky you.”

_Yeah. Lucky me._ A bitter little voice supplied from the back of Aziraphale’s mind, voice promptly drowned in the sudden, burning pain rising from his back as Crowley sunk into him.

Really, Aziraphale never learned. But at least he knew when a battle was lost.

He closed his eyes once more before tears could spill, bit down on his lower lip, and forced him corporation to relax.

He knew how things would go. It’d be over soon.

And there would be no fleeting minutes of being able to hold Crowley close, this time around.

**

The first light of dawn was plunging the small bathroom adjacent to Aziraphale’s office in pale pink hues, when he closed to door behind himself, and slowly started to unfold the light blue scarf around his neck. He stood in front of the mirror above the sink, staring.

His reflection looked back with tired eyes and messy white hair framing his pale face. The finger-shaped, purple bruises around his neck jumped to the eye like a neon sign. He sighed deeply, putting the scarf back on.

His eyes burnt. He pointedly looked away, knowing that, if he glanced at his reflection again, tears would be a perfectly noticeable sheen on his eyes. He closed them, breathing in deeply.

His chest hurt. It usually did, after a night like the one he just went through. It hurt, and it made him feel weak, like he couldn’t hold back the thoughts he kept hidden and caged in the darkest corner of his mind.

So he breathed in, deeply, slowly. He breathed in, forced his mind to quiet. He breathed in until his eyes weren’t burning anymore, until the pain in his chest receded to the always present, more manageable low sting from behind his breastbone.

Earth was nice, all in all, he told himself. It just so happened to be a bad day.

That’s what it was. Just a bad day.


End file.
